I’m stretched and warped and tilted just so,
In a carnival hall where the oddities glow.
They laugh, they scream, they point, they flee—
But not one ever really looks at me.
I am the Funhouse, warped and wide,
With no soul of my own, just what steps inside.
A giggle here—a waif-like waist,
A sob when a nose takes up half a face.
“Wow, I look amazing!” says one with delight,
Then another storms o...
